


say you'll fight for me, you'll try for me

by driedflowers



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 21:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6440869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/driedflowers/pseuds/driedflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She turns to grin at Clary. “Thank God we’re hot chicks with superpowers, right?”<br/>“Gotta love those shadowhunter reflexes,” Clary agrees. <em>And those Lightwood good looks.</em></p>
<p> <br/>AU where Isabelle followed Clary and Magnus into that basement thing in This World Inverted instead of Jace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	say you'll fight for me, you'll try for me

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Fight For Me by She Is We.
> 
> Prompt: thank god we're hot chicks with superpowers
> 
> Beta'd by allcequinn on tumblr, thanks a lot!!!

****Magnus seems to think the entrance is through here, and she has no choice but to trust him. They go through the sliding door.

Down a flight of stairs, there’s a sort of basement-like space. There are a couple of weird-looking sculptures, and shelves full of cardboard boxes. It looks like the evidence room at the police station.

“Are you sure this is the right place?”

“Don’t worry, biscuit,” Magnus says, in a tone that would make Clary cringe hard if they weren’t in such a dire situation.

Clary hasn’t decided if she’s going to listen to him yet when she hears footfalls echoing behind her. She whirls around to see Izzy coming down the stairs.

“Clary!” she cries. “Are you okay?” Izzy runs over to her, glaring at Magnus, who merely looks amused.

“Everything’s alright here,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“Clary, are you sure? I was so worried when I saw you go off with a strange man.” She glares at him again, tightening her grip on Clary’s shoulders. “I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

“Aw, Iz, that’s sweet of you,” Clary says, trying not to sound too rushed. She detaches Izzy’s arm from around her and turns around to face the other girl. “But really, I’m—”

Out of nowhere, a demon interrupts her. Not one of the larger, scarier demons, but still. Without a seraph blade, pretty much any demon is large, scary, and, most importantly, deadly.

“Izzy!” Clary shouts, grabbing her hand and pulling her away, behind a shelf of boxes. Izzy’s eyes are wide, and she’s speaking in rapid Spanish under her breath. Clary puts an arm around her. Magnus will take care of the demon. Without a seraph blade, there’s not much she could do, anyway.

There’s a sizzling noise and a flash of blue light, followed by a groan that doesn’t quite sound human. Clary takes this to mean Magnus won the fight. She peeks out from the side of the shelf and catches Magnus grinning, a few residual blue sparks dancing around his fingertips.

“I’ve got to say, that felt good.”

“Good enough to do again? Because I don’t go back through the door soon, you might have to,” Clary says, and the smirk fades from Magnus’s face.

He spins on his heel and walks away from her, turning around a corner. Clary almost follows him.

“Clary?” Izzy says, from halfway behind a box.

Clary goes back over to her. “It’s okay,” she says. “You’re okay. You’re going to be fine.” She smooths down Izzy’s dress, straightens her glasses, wipes away her tears, continuing to reassure her. She also gives Izzy a crash course in this whole alternate dimension thing, because it feels good to tell somebody that’s not a degenerate warlock, and the damage has already been done. Apparently this version of Izzy has read a lot of science fiction, so she catches on pretty quickly.

“I think I found it!” Magnus calls.

Clary gives Izzy a final pat on the shoulder. “Go back to the party, okay?” She waits for Izzy to nod before heading off to join Magnus.

There’s a moment of pure elation when she sees the door. It’s purple, swirling, sparkly, and she’s maybe thirty feet away when its shimmering edges start to draw closed. Clary sprints toward it, but by the time her fists hit the wall, it’s just that: a wall. The door back to her dimension is closed.

Tears spring to her eyes, but she chokes them down. “What am I supposed to do now?”

After a moment, Magnus says, “Give me your necklace.”

She doesn’t even pause to unclasp it, just rips it from around her neck. He takes the pendant and pushes it into another wall, this one cracked all over with a sort of dent in the middle that’s just the right size. He does some sort of magic, waving his arms about. Clary can’t help but think smugly that her earlier impression wasn’t so far off. But it doesn’t matter how ridiculous he looks, because Magnus has just opened something that looks a lot like a portal back home.

Clary is just about to thank Magnus and hop through it when she’s interrupted by a scream. “Izzy!” Clary takes off, running towards the sound. “I thought you killed the demon!” she shouts over her shoulder at Magnus,

“Did I ever say that?”

Clary shakes her head in disgust and keeps running. There’s a hefty looking broom leaning against the wall, so she grabs it. It’s no seraph blade, but it’s something.

The screams are coming from the far corner of the room, and Clary rushes over. She can see Isabelle, cowering in the corner and holding the top of a box like a shield. Clary raises her broom handle, ready to strike, when a bolt of blue magic hits the demon square in the face.

“Go!” Magnus says. “I have enough magic to keep the portal open for maybe another minute.”

Clary stands there for a moment, frozen. Magnus is still shooting magic at the demon, but what if he can’t kill it? What if Isabelle—poor, defenseless Isabelle—gets hurt? If she goes back through that door, Izzy might not even get out of this alive. And yes, Clary would never be back in this dimension to see that happen, but she would also never be able to live with herself.

There’s no choice. Clary grabs Izzy’s arm and drags her through the portal.

* * *

Maybe taking Izzy with her at the last moment screws things up, or maybe it’s something else, but the grand plan doesn’t work. When Clary opens her eyes, she’s in the middle of the forest, not in Valentine’s secret lair. Jace is there to walk back to the Institute with her in dejection, but Meliorn has left (or, as Jace puts it, “slunk back to the Seelie realm”). He explains how they had to close the door so that no more demons could go through, apologizes for the trouble it must have caused. Clary almost tells him what happened with Izzy, but for some reason, it feels better to keep it a secret. On the walk back, they talk instead about Java Jace, and exactly what she would have to do to get him to open a coffee truck in this dimension.

It’s flirty, and fun, and just mindless enough so she can focus on worrying about Izzy. She’s pretty sure Izzy from the other dimension is freaking out in the Institute, where the Izzy from this dimension is currently _imprisoned_. Clary didn’t exactly mention that. But she did tell Izzy a little bit, hopefully enough to stop her from causing any real damage.

As soon as they get back to the Institute, Clary begs Lydia to let her see Izzy.

“For a few minutes,” Lydia concedes, after giving her a serious talking-to about all of this delinquency. Clary is surprised that she doesn’t get more of a punishment, but she thinks maybe Lydia is tired of being the bad guy.

Clary spends most of her few minutes filling Isabelle in on everything she can think of, starting from that night and working her way back. Izzy seems to be absorbing everything okay, and she keeps nodding. Several times, she reaches up to adjust her glasses, only to find that they aren’t there.

She gets a little frown on her face the fourth time she does this, and Clary stops explaining downworlder politics to place a hand on her shoulder.

“You can get me back home, right?”

“I’ll do everything I can.”

Izzy’s eyes are shining, but she swallows back her tears. “Thank you,” she says, getting up to hug Clary.

* * *

The day the trial ends and Izzy is declared free to go, Jace orders a pizza, which is apparently kind of a big deal to shadowhunters; it’s become clear that they don’t get out much. The four of them agree to meet in the library in half an hour, and disperse: Jace and Alec to fit in some extra training, and Clary and Izzy to debrief.

“You did great,” Clary says, once they’re in big comfy sweatshirts and sitting cross-legged on her bed.

“Really?” Izzy says, giggling. “Well, I know I did okay, because I’m not in shadowhunter exile right now, but you think I did great?”

“Yeah.” It’s weird having their roles reversed like this. Being the teacher instead of the pupil in the world of shadowhunting.

Izzy smiles at her. Apparently, Clary failed to notice that huge, soppy grins are the norm in the alternate dimension, because she’s gotten a lot lately. Not that she’s complaining.

“Should we go down for pizza now?”

Clary scoffs, pointing at Izzy’s sweatshirt. “In that?”

“...Of course not.”

Izzy gets up off the bed and goes over to her dresser. One of the drawers isn’t opening, so she pulls hard. The dresser shakes, and a vase on the side falls. Time seems to slow down as Izzy reaches out, catching it inches above the ground.

She turns to grin at Clary. “Thank God we’re hot chicks with superpowers, right?”

“Gotta love those shadowhunter reflexes,” Clary agrees. _And those Lightwood good looks_.

One very revealing shirt later, they head downstairs. Alec and Jace are already there, sitting on the floor and eating pizza. Clary sits down as far away from Jace as she reasonably can. It’s not that she doesn’t like him, but there are just so many other things on her plate right now. Mainly, getting Izzy back home.

“Alec, have you seen Magnus lately?” she asks, taking a slice of pineapple and barbecued chicken pizza. She never should have let Jace choose the toppings.

Alec chokes on his food. When he’s done coughing, he says, “No.”

“Okay,” she says. “Um. How’s wedding planning going?”

Alec is happy to talk about that. At least, he kind of is. He smiles a lot, but it never reaches his eyes.

Clary ends up looking up Magnus’s number in the Institute directory. For the High Warlock of Brooklyn, he’s not hard to track down.

* * *

The next morning, Clary is woken up rather earlier than she’d like to be. But it’s Isabelle, dressed in tight jeans, tall boots, and a top that is showing a serious amount of cleavage, so she can’t hold onto her spite for long. Clary sits up just as Izzy walks to the side of her bed, and for a moment it seems like they’re going to collide. Softly. With their mouths. Clary breathes in Izzy’s perfume for a second, then pulls back. She coughs uncomfortably.

“Ready to go see Magnus?”

Izzy laughs. Confidently. “Why? I promised Alec I would stop trying to play matchmaker.”

“Isabelle Bernadette Lightwood,” Clary says. She’s losing her. Maybe it would be easier to leave it this way, just let things fade back to normal, forget about the other world. But she can’t do that. She can’t let Izzy down in any dimension.

“That is _not_ my middle name,” Izzy says, smirking.

“Isabelle,” Clary says again, sitting up on her knees so she can put her hands on Izzy’s shoulders, and trying not to think about the bra that she is _not_ wearing because she was, you know, _sleeping_. “You are here from another dimension. You wear glasses, you work for Valentine Morgenstern as a web developer. Your friend Jace owns a coffee truck. You’re in love with Simon, your boyfriend. You wear glasses, blue glasses, and—”

“Thanks,” Izzy says, shaking her head like a wet dog. Clary can see the difference in her posture, now that she’s back. She’s not standing up as straight, not taking up as much space in the world. This Izzy doesn’t have a hard look as her default. This Izzy looks like she’d be clueless with a whip.

“This is why we have to go to Magnus’s, now.”

Clary pulls on jeans and a t-shirt, and they head out.

* * *

“Let me get this straight. You let your brother get engaged to someone that is not me, and now you expect me to help you with this, and you can’t even pay me?”

Clary thought this would go rather better. “Your alternate universe self was a little more willing,” she grumbles.

“We just need one teensy interdimensional portal,” Izzy adds.

Magnus considers, stroking his cat. “There is one thing you can give me.”

“What?” Clary says. “Name it.”

He turns to Isabelle. “An invite to Alexander’s wedding.”

Clary exchanges a look with Isabelle, who shrugs. How much trouble can one warlock cause, anyway? “You’ve got it.”

Magnus claps his hands once and rubs them together, the glint in his eyes almost making Clary regret her decision.

“So, the portal?” Clary says, squeezing Izzy’s hand. She doesn’t remember exactly when she took it.

“Do you have anything from the other dimension?”

Clary rummages around in her bag. She pulls out the purple stone, no longer on its chain. “I grabbed this on the way back through the portal.” At the time, it had been an impulse. She had jeopardized their chances of getting away for a sliver of a hope of getting Izzy back. “ In the other dimension, you said it could work.” Magnus picks it up gingerly and holds it up to his eyes, nodding slowly. It looks like the risk has paid off.

“This will do,” he finally says. All traces of humor are gone from his face; he’s in serious business warlock mode now.

The next hour or so is a blur of foul-smelling potions, feathers from a variety of birds, a few warlock runes, and, oddly enough, a series of flat stones, the kind perfect for skipping over a lake. Finally, Magnus declares it finished. There’s a pentagram-looking design on the floor with the purple stone in the center.

“Are you sure this will work?” Clary asks dubiously. “The other portal was in the side of a wall, and it didn’t smell nearly as.... strong.”

“Of course it will work,” Magnus snaps. He turns to Izzy and softens his voice, adding, “When you’re ready, step into the center and pick up the stone to activate the portal.”

“Okay, thanks,” Clary says. “Um, do you think we can have a moment?” This should feel good, sending Izzy back to her home dimension, but it’s bittersweet. It’s been nice spending all this time together. She wonders if the real Isabelle will be able to remember any of the past few days.

Magnus raises an eyebrow, but goes off to another room.

“Thank you so much, Clary,” Izzy says, hugging her tight.

Clary buries her face in Isabelle’s shoulder instead of answering. There’s nothing she can think of to say right now. The hug is enough; Izzy understands.

They break apart, and Isabelle steps into the pentagram. She turns to look at Clary one final time before reaching down for the stone.

There’s a flash of bright light, and a cloud of blue smoke that smells like sulfur. All the stones and potions on the floor are gone, and so is Izzy.

Clary whirls around. “What happened?” she asks Magnus, who is calmly sitting on the arm of the couch.

“What does it look like happened? It worked.”

“Yeah, but— Where is she?”

“How should I know?”

Clary leaves the apartment in a fog, not even turning around when Magnus yells, “Don’t forget my invitation!” behind her.

She takes the subway back to the Institute, doesn’t even bother with a glamour. The stares she gets are almost welcome; they remind her that she has bigger fish to fry than an unrequited crush on a girl who may or may not be in interdimensional limbo right now.

When Clary gets back to the Institute, she heads straight for her room. To cry. Except, her body doesn’t seem to get the memo that she would like to cry in _private_ , and she bursts into tears on the staircase. She hurries up the rest of the stairs, praying to shadowhunter God (didn’t Jace say something about an angel that they worship? Rachel? Razor?) that she doesn’t run into anyone.

Clary reaches the top of the stairs and has a hand on her doorknob when she notices that Izzy’s door, across the hall from hers, is open. She sticks in her head to find Izzy sitting on the floor against the wall, fixing a rip in a burgundy dress that looks a lot like it came from a demon claw. When she sees Clary’s tearstained face, she frowns and puts the dress aside, patting the spot next to her on the carpet. Clary sits down and immediately leans on Izzy’s shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” Izzy says, stroking her hair.

Clary wants to tell her everything. But she’s not sure she could make it through the whole story without accidentally professing her love for Izzy, so she sighs and says, “I’m just tired.”

There’s no way Izzy believes her, but she doesn’t say anything. She just puts an arm around Clary’s shoulders and sort of pulls her into her lap. She smells good, soft, like an echo of vanilla perfume, and Clary doesn’t feel so much like crying anymore. She takes a shaky breath, the kind that happens after you’re done crying but your body hasn’t quite caught up yet, and closes her eyes.

It’s not hard to doze off, with Izzy rubbing small circles on her shoulder. Izzy must think she’s asleep, because she presses a kiss to her bright red curls. Clary smiles, wonders if she should pretend not to have noticed. But she doesn’t. If there’s one thing shadowhunting has taught her, it’s that life is short.

Sunlight streams in through a gap in the curtains, lighting the room like a Wes Anderson movie. Clary sits up straight so that she can face Isabelle. There’s a question in Izzy’s eyes, and Clary answers it by leaning in.

Where Izzy’s hands on her shoulders had previously brought comfort, they now send shivers down her spine, bring blood coursing through her veins. Kissing Izzy, even this slow, lazy kiss in the afternoon sun, is electrifying.

"Why did you do that?" Izzy asks later, when they're lounging on her bed, talking in circles and staring into each other's eyes. Clary knows exactly what she means.

"In the words of someone I once knew, we're hot chicks with superpowers. Why didn't I do it weeks ago?"

Izzy throws a pillow at her. "Stop, you sound like Simon."

"But I'm not wrong," Clary says, throwing it back.

Izzy scrunches up her nose adorably. "I don't know, does angel blood count as a superpower?"

"It should. Maybe I'll put it in that graphic novel Simon and I are going to write someday," Clary says. She starts to get up to go to the training room; she promised Jace she would spend some more time working on her right hook.

"Don't leave, _mi cielo_ ," Izzy says, reaching an arm out and caressing her cheek. Clary can't help but think, as she lies back down on the bed, that this is Isabelle's real superpower.


End file.
